House of Cards
by Lady Bracknell
Summary: After a night’s drinking, Tonks ends up in Remus’ bed, with no idea how she got there. He takes the opportunity to prove that his inner Marauder is not so much dead and buried, as waiting for an opportunity to pounce.
1. The Joker

**A/N: This is an alternative take on the second half of Chapter 5 of Under The Table. If you haven't read that (and you want to ignore my puppy dog eyes and pleas that you do so immediately), all you need to know is that Tonks had a bit to drink last night, and Remus put her to bed.**

**This fic is dedicated to MrsTater for suggesting that I write it. I couldn't resist the temptation (in fact, I didn't try very hard at all…).**

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After six hours of tossing and turning on a bed that was presumably designed for a man roughly half his size with no feeling in his back, Remus gave up on the idea of sleep and staggered to his feet, rubbing his eyes against the daylight that was streaming through the threadbare curtains. He checked his watch, wondering what time Tonks had to be at work and, rather more warily, if she'd been sick in his bed.

It was nine o'clock. He thought that he should probably wake her up, and went downstairs and made her some strong coffee before climbing the stairs and knocking softly on the door.

No response. He knocked a little louder, and was answered with a groan. "Tonks?" he said. She groaned again.

He opened the door slowly and peered into the room. She was face down on the bed, moaning, his pillow clamped over her head. He couldn't quite think what, but something was very wrong with the picture. His eyes roamed over her naked shoulders…yes, he thought, that's it.

He took in the trail of clothes down one side of the bed, and smiled to himself.

It had been a while since he'd had women's clothes strewn about his bedroom, and he'd forgotten how much he liked it – the sight of unfamiliar garments, tossed aside haphazardly. The bright orange underwear was definitely a first, though, he thought.

"Tonks?" he said, setting the coffee down on his bed-side table. He crouched down next to the bed and touched her lightly on the shoulder, wondering how, when she couldn't even attempt stairs, she'd managed to wriggle out of all of her clothes and climb between his sheets. She moaned again, but crawled out from underneath the pillow and squinted at him anyway.

"What are you doing here?" she said. Her hair was no longer arranged in spikes, but more a kind of pink fluffy mess that he had to fight the urge to reach out and ruffle. Adorable, he thought. She had the remains of some dark make-up around her eyes, which he thought probably should have lessened the effect, but, worryingly, did not.

"You're in my room, Tonks," he said. She rubbed her eyes, making the displaced make-up even more smudged.

"Oh," she said, sitting up and gathering the sheet around her. Then her eyes widened. She peeled the sheet away a little and glanced beneath it, her eyes widening further. "I don't think I've got any clothes on."

"Apparently not," he said, casting his eyes over the trail of discarded clothes on the carpet.

"Did you take them off?" she said, her eyes narrowing in accusation.

"Don't you remember?"

She swallowed. "Not really," she said.

It was too good an opportunity to miss – an adorable young woman, naked in his bed, with no idea how she got there. His inner Marauder smiled, nay grinned, at the thought.

Remus let his face fall into a mask of dejection. He'd felt it enough times for real to pull off a passing mimic, he thought. "What?" she said, her make-up rimmed eyes searching his face. He shook his head, and gave her an obviously forced, tight-lipped smile, avoiding her eyes.

"No – just – well, I thought you might."

"Why? Did something happen?"

He looked even further away and then got to his feet, turning his back on her and staring at the window before answering. Partly he was trying to avoid her seeing the tell-tale grin that was desperately threatening to break out all over his face as she took in absolutely everything he said, but also he felt that someone in the situation he was trying to pull off making her believe he was in would probably be a bit embarrassed. He took a couple of steps towards the window, toying with the peeling paint on the frame and pretending to look between the gap in the threadbare curtains out into the overgrown garden, while he wondered which of the many ways he could take this he was going to.

He weighed them up slowly. Convincing her that she was the wildest girl he'd ever been with might be fun…. Or there was always the old 'didn't you know werewolves mate for life?' speech…. All of a sudden, though, he hit upon an altogether more enticing idea, something that was utterly perfect for her, something she would buy without question because she'd probably already made half the assumptions herself.

"I didn't throw up everywhere, did I?" she said, and he noted, a little gleefully, that the tone of her voice was rather more one of hope than expectation. "Is that why you took my clothes off?"

"No," he said. "Nothing like that."

"I didn't do anything really embarrassing, did I?" she said, cautiously. "I do tend to get a bit – you know – friendly when I've had a few."

Remus bit his lip against the snigger that desperately wanted to break free. When he was sure he could keep his voice steady, he said "Oh, well that might explain it."

"Explain what?"

"I don't blame you for not remembering," he said mournfully. "I probably wasn't – you know – very good at it."

He'd always thought that a good lie was like a trail of breadcrumbs. You needed to leave just enough for people to follow, not enough that they knew it was a trap. He was a little rusty, a little out of practice, and yet it all seemed to be coming back.

"What?" she said, her voice high with surprise. "What the hell happened?"

"We – well, we – Merlin, Tonks, this is hard. I wish you remembered."

He studied the windowsill for a moment, wondering when she'd figure out what he was getting at. He heard her shift in his bed. "Did we – " she said. "Am I in your bed because – "

"Yes," he said quickly, "but if you don't mind, I think I'd really rather not talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Well," he said, with utterly feigned reluctance. It was exactly the thing he hoped she would ask. He swallowed again for dramatic effect. "To be honest, I'm embarrassed," he said quietly. "It's not like I've had a lot – well any – practice at this kind of thing."

There was a pause, and then Tonks gasped and muttered something that sounded not unlike the words 'Oh holy hen's teeth'. He desperately clenched his teeth together to keep from laughing.

"You mean we – " He nodded. " – and you were – " He nodded again, clenching his teeth together so viciously he was surprised they didn't give way.

Behind him, Tonks took a quick steadying breath, and he heard the soft pat of her feet landing on the floor and the rustle of her bringing the sheet with her as she came over to join him. By the time she put her hand gently on his arm, he'd mostly composed himself. "Remus?" she said.

He met her eye briefly, just long enough to know that she'd well and truly taken the bait, and all he had to do was be a bit dejected and reluctant. "It's alright," he said. "Forget it happened." He furrowed his brow. "Oh – well – I mean, you have already, so…."

He turned to leave, steadfastly refusing to meet her eye, but he'd made it barely a couple of paces towards the door when he felt her hand on his arm again, urging him to stop. He'd intended to lie and run, since he'd found that it was always best to keep these things short and sweet, to let the other person fill in the blanks on their own, since their worst fears always served to better torment them than anything he could come up with. But Tonks didn't seem to want to let him go just yet.

He looked down, studying the floorboards beneath his feet, and out of the corner of his eye he could make out her taking in the scene – the evidence – her clothes scattered all across one side of his room, the rumpled sheets she was wearing, his hangdog expression. All of a sudden he was glad that he no doubt looked like a man who'd been up all night.

He wondered if she'd notice that he was wearing yesterday's clothes, and that none of his were intermingled with hers on the floor and that that might give the game away. There was a chance, though, that she'd just assume he'd slipped out of bed early to make her coffee and pulled on whatever was closest.

"Remus?" she said. "Just so we're clear, you're telling me that not only did we – " She paused, and swallowed, he supposed, trying to find the right word or phrase. " – do the deed," she said, "I was the first girl you'd ever – " She winced. " – been with?"

Remus wondered if her delicate phrasing was for his benefit, as if she thought he might faint if she said the word 'shag'. He supposed he couldn't really blame her. He had rather given her that impression, he supposed. "I really would rather not talk about it," he said, thinking that he'd best play the cards she'd dealt him.

"Remus – "

"Look," he said, "this is pretty embarrassing for me and I know you probably want to have a good old laugh about it – "

"I'm not – "

"I really just want to forget that this happened."

"Yeah well, losing your virginity is the kind of memory you tend to get stuck with," she said, "so you'd probably better stop being such a bloody wimp about it."

He gave a sniff of laughter that he hoped she'd interpret as something else. "Sorry," he said. "Just – "

He faltered, but she didn't seem to think anything of it, and he let her lead him back over to the bed and perch him on the edge. He was surprised how nice she was being, how caring. He almost felt bad about deceiving her….

She sat down beside him, looking at him with such concern that he almost caved and told her the truth, until he remembered that the only reason she was buying this at all was that she probably _did_ think he was some stuffed shirt thirty-something virgin. Then he felt a bit annoyed more than anything, and a little less bad about playing a trick on her. "So what happened?" she said. "I don't even remember deciding to come here, let alone anything…else."

He thought fast, knowing that he'd have to keep things pretty close to the truth. "Well – it was quite late when you got here – you'd been drinking, and I had too, earlier with Sirius," he said. He met her eye and smiled just a little. "And we talked for a while, and then you said – you said I was your homing beetle – and then you – well, you kissed me, Tonks."

"Did I?"

"Yes," he said. "And I probably should have stopped you – "

"No, I'm sure – "

" – but I didn't want to."

Her eyes widened. "No?"

"No," he said softly. "It was nice, and after a while you asked me if I wanted to take you upstairs." He met her eye again, pressed his lips together uncertainly before continuing. "I said I did, but I didn't really know what to do, and you said that it was Ok because you'd show me. So we came up here, and, well, things happened."

He shifted a little on the bed, trying to appear nervous, hoping he wasn't overplaying it.

"Things, Remus?" she said, squinting at him a little.

"Well, _every_thing," he said, glancing nervously at the ceiling.

"Merlin," Tonks said, letting the word out as a breath. "So what you're basically saying is that you were a bit drunk and I took advantage and seduced you?"

"No," he said. "It wasn't like – " He paused in entirely false consideration. " – well, yes, I suppose. But I mean – well, it wasn't as if I put up much of a protest."

Tonks' cheeks turned nearly as pink as her hair, and he made a mental note to try and make her blush more often, since the effect was really rather appealing. She cleared her throat, drew herself up a little, having obviously decided that since he was the pathetic one, recently robbed of his virginal state, and she was the femme fatale of the piece, she should pull herself together. "How come you hadn't done it before?" she said. Remus rolled his eyes at himself.

"I know it's pathetic – "

"It's not pathetic."

"It is," he said. "If it hadn't been you, you'd be roaring with laughter and saying that you never imagined I was quite _that_ boring."

She smiled at him faintly. "Maybe," she said. Remus let out a soft snort of amusement that he managed to turn, somehow, into something a bit more rueful and bashful. "So how come – last night – why did you decide..?"

"You said you liked my face," he said. "People – well, girls – don't say things like that to me very often. I'm not Sirius – it's not as if girls are queuing up to throw themselves at me, even before they find out what I am, and when they do…."

"You mean when they find out you don't have a lot of experience?"

Bless her tact, he thought.

"No, I meant that I'm a werewolf," he said.

"Oh," she said, eyes wide in surprise. He realised suddenly, with a jolt, that it hadn't occurred to her for a second that that was what he meant.

Deciding that he'd done more than enough to have her racked with guilt until she remembered what really happened, he said, "I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."

He met her eyes with a slight questioning panic in his that he hoped was convincing.

"Of course I won't," she said.

"It's just – Sirius would be unbearable if he knew, and – "

"I won't tell anyone," she said.

"Thanks."

He gave her another tight-lipped smile and got to his feet. "You should drink your coffee before it goes cold," he said. "I'll – er – see you later, I suppose."

He left Tonks looking rather dazed and confused in his room, and bit his lip to keep from sniggering all the way down the corridor until he was out of earshot.

As he leant against the wall, shaking with silent laughter, he wondered how long he should let her stew. He came to the conclusion that if she hadn't sent him a Howler to tell him what a git he was by the time the meeting rolled around that evening, he'd tell her the truth.

Probably.

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**A/N: So what do you reckon? How long is it going to take Tonks to figure out Remus is joking? Couple of chapters? Sounds about right to me…**

**Anyone who fancies leaving a review gets Marauder Remus to play with for a couple of hours.**


	2. The Knave

Remus didn't see or hear from Tonks again at all that day. The Howler he'd expected never came, and so as he went downstairs for the Order meeting, he could barely contain his amusement at the thought that she still didn't have the faintest idea what was going on. Either that, he thought, or she was going to exact some kind of spectacular revenge during the meeting….

Tonks was already at the table, talking to Kingsley and Sirius, when Remus pushed open the door and stepped into the kitchen. She looked up, having obviously been waiting for him to appear, and he offered her a quick, tight-lipped smile that could either serve as apology or embarrassed grimace, depending on the state of her memory and whether or not she intended to hex his balls off. She smiled back and offered him a tentative "Wotcher," leaving him to surmise that she, in fact, couldn't remember a thing. He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, turning his head slightly so she wouldn't see the effort keeping a straight face was costing him.

"Tonks," he returned flatly.

He cleared his throat to dislodge the laughter that was brewing there, and then swallowed, mock-nervously, and slid into a chair on the opposite side of the table, steadfastly refusing to meet her eye.

He'd resolved to tell her the truth – well, that wasn't entirely true. He'd resolved that he _should_ tell her the truth, but now that he was faced with her concerned expression and the eager kindness he knew lay behind it…. He didn't want to be cruel, but he couldn't help thinking that confessing all now would just be a wasted opportunity. And if he was honest, he was intrigued to see how much more he might be able to get away with before she rumbled him.

Remus avoided Tonks' eyes all the way through the Order meeting, silently plotting what his next move should be. He wondered if there might be more mileage in making her squirm….

By the time the meeting was drawing to a close, he'd decided that it might just be better to follow her lead, to see how she intended to handle things, and take it from there.

He said polite, clipped goodbyes to everyone and shuffled away down the corridor and up the stairs to the drawing room. He selected a book and opened it in his lap, fingering the edge of a page as if he was just about to turn it. And then he waited for her to come and find him.

Soon enough, he heard Tonks trip over the last step, swear quietly to herself, and then hesitate outside the door. She paced for a few moments, and then took a deep breath, let it out as a quick sigh, and pushed the door open.

"Wotcher," she said, quietly, as she edged into the room, closing the door behind her.

"Hello."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her staring at her feet, scuffing a threadbare patch in the carpet with her toe, while he pretended – quite obviously – to be engrossed in the book in his lap. The silence stretched, and by the time she spoke, the tension in the room was so thick he could barely make out her words through it. "How are you?" she asked.

"Fine, thank you," he replied. He delivered his line rather stiffly, as if he was painfully embarrassed and trying not to show it. To compound the effect, he threw her another obviously forced, tight-lipped smile, barely glancing up from the book he was obviously pretending to be reading.

"You don't seem fine," she said.

Remus stayed quiet, staring intently at the print on the page in his lap. "Are you still feeling a bit odd about last night?" she said. He looked up to find her eyeing him with the same concern she'd had that morning, but as soon as he met her eye she straightened up and squared her shoulders, obviously trying to indicate that she was utterly unflustered and not feeling odd in the slightest.

"Odd?" he said.

"Yeah."

He fixed his face into a picture of embarrassed incredulity, deciding that a touch more guilt might not go amiss, and that there was a chance he could maybe turn up his dejection a bit. "Last night I shared something with you I'd never shared with anyone before, and you don't even remember it," he said quietly, nervously fingering the edges of the shabby volume in his hands. " 'Odd' barely begins to cover it."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off before she had a chance. "I really would be more comfortable not talking about this," he said, laying the bait.

"I don't think that's really an option, though, is it?" she said, taking it, as he'd hoped she would. After all, if she abided by his wishes and left him alone, it wouldn't be very much fun. "If we carry on acting weird around each other, people'll know something's up. We've got to work together, if nothing else."

Remus wondered what on earth she meant by 'if nothing else', but he was saved the trouble of really thinking about it when Tonks decided to plough on. "Everyone feels a bit weird after – you know – the first time."

Remus rolled his eyes to disguise the smile in them at how desperately she was trying to make him feel better. Of course he couldn't let her off the hook that easily, though. "Please don't make this worse by patronising me," he said.

"I wasn't – "

"I already feel like the most spectacularly pathetic human being ever to roam the planet…. I mean I've never exactly been over-confident or brimming with ego," he said, "but this is the first time something's happened to put me below nothing in those stakes."

He wondered if he'd gone too far, been too dejected and possibly a little melodramatic, but Tonks crossed the room and perched beside him on the sofa, her expression teetering precariously close to having to be described as one of anguish. He leant heavily on the arm of the sofa, covering his mouth with his hand and breathing heavily against his fingers in what he hoped looked more like embarrassed consternation than amusement.

"I'm really sorry I don't remember," she said.

"It's all right," he said. "You don't need to explain. If I'd slept with me I'd probably want to block it out too."

"That's not it at all. I'm sure it was – "

She faltered, and he wondered what words she was debating using. Fine? Lovely? Perfectly adequate? What did she think going to bed with him would be like? "But that's the thing, isn't it?" he said, deciding that he probably didn't want to know. "You have no idea _what_ it was, and it's not as if I have anything to compare it to."

"Look," she said, placing a hand gingerly on his arm. "I'm sure it's nothing personal…."

"Nothing personal?" he said, meeting her eye with a touch of horror that she would suggest such a thing in his.

"I mean – I'm sure I wouldn't have remembered anybody."

He gritted his teeth together to keep from laughing. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he said, adopting a miffed tone to go with his expression. Tonks blinked a couple of times, utterly taken aback.

"Well, yes," she said. He sighed and closed his eyes, unable to look at her any longer if he wasn't going to give the game away.

"I think I really did prefer not talking about this," he said.

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her mouth as if she was steeling herself to say something she really didn't want to. "Look, Remus," she said, glancing nervously at her lap. "I'm bloody useless at this kind of thing. In fact, I'm probably the single worst person in the entire Northern hemisphere that you could've chosen to do this with – I never know what to say normally, let alone in a – you know – delicate situation like this…." She trailed off, looking a bit dejected herself as she spread her hands across her lap in apology.

He was about to say something when she straightened up, having obviously given herself a mental shake. "But I – you – I mean _we_ – did this and now we're just going to have to deal with it," she said. He smiled a little to himself at her sincerity, hoping she wouldn't notice, and thinking that if this had happened for real, he couldn't have picked a better person. "And yes, it's awkward and embarrassing and a whole load of other things it probably shouldn't have been, but, you know, we're stuck with it, so…." She trailed off again. "Do you want a hug, or something?" she offered tentatively.

He let out a sniff of laughter before he could stifle it, and decided that he'd better nod just so he could hide from her gaze for a moment. She pulled him to her and he dropped his head onto her shoulder, hoping that she wouldn't feel his tell-tale grin through her clothes. She gave him a reassuring squeeze and then patted him brusquely on the back and let him go again.

She smiled at him a bit uncertainly, and he almost caved and told her the truth. "Sorry I've been a bit – " he started, but she shook her head.

"It's all right," she said. "It's not like I've got any brilliant ideas about how to handle this or what we're supposed to do next either."

The word 'next' sent a jolt right through him, but he'd barely registered it when she continued. "I mean it's not as if I go around randomly sleeping with people – "

She stopped, frowned slightly, and looked right at him. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered him, and even though he tried to keep his face impassive, trying to look as if he was just hanging on her every word, waiting for her to continue, he knew that he was probably giving himself away somehow.

After a moment, all traces of nervousness and apprehension drained from her face, and she raised a hand to her mouth. Between her fingers he could see the briefest traces of a smile, and he knew she'd figured him out. He couldn't help it. He grinned.

"You wouldn't," she said, although even as she uttered the words she didn't look like she believed them for a second. Her eyes widened and her jaw tensed as she drew in a long breath through a tight, astounded smile. He smiled back sheepishly, wincing in expectance of the tirade that was no doubt about to follow.

"Wouldn't I?" he returned.

"You were joking," she said, and he nodded.

For a minute she seemed to be contemplating the appropriate response. He supposed it was going to go one of two ways – either she'd have a bit of a rant and then see the funny side, or she'd take huge offence, hex him to hell and back and never speak to him again. Her eyes darkened momentarily in anger, but her lips were fluctuating between a smile she was obviously desperately trying to suppress and open-mouthed indignation, leaving him to think that he was probably in for the former. "You git!" she said, her voice squashed and high-pitched, shaking with something he desperately hoped was suppressed amusement. He tried to look suitably admonished, even though he desperately wanted to roar with laughter. "You complete and utter _git_!"

She grabbed a cushion from the sofa and smacked him with it, catching him a little unawares with her first blow to the side of his face. "Do you have any idea how guilty I felt today?" she said, highlighting every other word with a cushion blow. He made a noise of question before dissolving into laughter as she pummelled him, and he cowered back into the arm of the sofa, trying to dodge her blows as best he could. He raised his arms, defending himself with the book he'd been pretending to read, sniggering wildly. Her eyes roved his face, taking in his amusement. She glared at him, although he couldn't help feeling that it was slightly tempered by the glimmer of merriment in her eyes.

"I practically paced a hole in the bloody carpet in my office worrying about you!" she said.

"About me?" he said. "Really, you shouldn't have."

"Oh well I know that now," she said, and even though her mouth was forming an open smile, her tone was a little huffy. "I can't believe you – you total, total bastard," she muttered as she took a couple of swipes at his head with the cushion.

She whacked him on the shoulder for good measure and then folded the cushion to her chest, twisting it in her hands. She took a few heavy, laboured breaths. "In fact," she said, "you're so far beyond a bastard that they haven't even invented a word for what you are."

He wondered if he dared….

"Actually," he said, biting his lip against his amusement, "I believe the term you're looking for is Marauder."

She cocked her head and glowered, narrowing her eyes at him in a way he supposed he was supposed to find threatening. He sniggered and ducked instinctively, but the blow he was expecting never came. "I suppose you'd forgotten," he added, gingerly lowering his defensive book and sitting up a little straighter, edging a little closer.

"No," she said. "I just assumed you were the one they let hang around with them so they had someone to help them with their homework."

"Well now you know," he said.

"Yes, now I know. Bastard."

He was about to leap in with an apology, but she cut him off. "I take the hug back, by the way," she said, tersely. She folded her arms and hugged the cushion to her, practically quivering with either amusement or annoyance, he couldn't quite tell which. He let her seethe for a moment, if that was what she was doing, hoping that eventually she'd see the funny side.

"What gave me away?" he asked, grinning at her tentatively.

"Apart from your annoyingly smug expression?" she said.

"Yes, apart from that."

She sighed, and he suspected that she was as frustrated with herself for falling for it as with him for tricking her. "When I said that I didn't go around randomly sleeping with people, I remembered what you said when we were outside the Malfoys'."

"Ah," he said. "What I said about not going around _accidentally_ sleeping with people."

"Yeah," she said. "It wasn't a virgin's answer."

She picked at the cushion cover for a moment, and he felt slightly bad for the cushion, taking the flak for something he'd done. "I should have spotted it straight away," she said. "If I hadn't been feeling so bloody guilty – " she paused to poke him rather viciously on the shoulder.

"Ow," he said, as he shied away far too late.

" – about robbing you of your innocence or whatever, I probably would've done."

He smiled. "Sorry," he said. "When you woke up and said you couldn't remember anything, I just couldn't resist it."

"Next time would you mind trying harder?" she said.

He suppressed the urge to laugh, feeling that his amusement at her anger might not be appreciated. "You were very nice about it," he said.

"Of course I was," she said. "I thought I'd gotten drunk and practically forced you to shag me."

"I meant that – " He wondered if he should really say what he was about to, but he felt, after everything he'd put her through, she deserved to have him say something complimentary, and it wasn't as if it wasn't true. "I meant that I think you're better at this kind of thing than you think you are. Much better."

She considered him for a moment, her eyes taking in every detail of his face, presumably to see if he was joking. He smiled at her, hoping that it looked as sincere as it felt. She rolled her eyes and looked away. "Better at this kind of thing than I thought I was," she said, "but obviously not quite as clever as I thought I was."

He chuckled quietly, and he could tell she was desperately trying to fight the urge to smile, and he knew that most of her anger had dissipated. She shook her head and sighed. "I should have seen right through you."

"Perhaps," he said. He couldn't resist teasing her a little more. "Maybe this'll teach you to make assumptions about people."

"What?"

"I take it you no longer think I'm boring?"

"Oh I still think you're boring," she said, her voice dancing. "Now I just think you're boring _and_ a bastard."

He laughed quietly. "I suppose I'll settle for that," he said.

They were quiet for a while, and he watched Tonks toying with a thread on the cushion, wondering what she was thinking. "So nothing happened, then?" she said.

Remus almost couldn't believe his luck. He thought quickly about what to say next, raising an eyebrow at her and offering her his best suggestive smile. "Oh something happened all right," he said, "you just weren't my first."

Her mouth dropped open and her eyebrows shot up, as if the two were on some kind of pulley. It took a great deal of effort not to laugh.

He wasn't sure he'd really expected her to fall for it twice, but now she had, he didn't want to waste the opportunity. Remus twitched his eyebrows at her. "And I have to say," he said, "it's a shame you don't remember, because you seemed to be having quite a nice time."

"I'm sure it'll come back to me," she said in a dull monotone, eyes still a little too wide.

"Quite," he said. He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin.

He knew he shouldn't have done it, that he should have come clean, but he just couldn't resist it. She was inordinately fun to tease, and, besides anything else, he was intrigued to see how she might take the news. It hadn't been lost on him that at no point had she scoffed disbelievingly at the idea that she'd slept with him.

She pressed her lips together in thought for a moment, and then leaned back against the sofa arm, surveying him with quite obviously false casualness. "What did we do, then?" she asked, shifting a little in her seat.

"I don't kiss and tell, Tonks," he said.

"Not even with the girl in question?"

"Yes, well, normally _the girl in question_ doesn't need to be told," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Normally she does me the courtesy of remembering."

She rolled her eyes at him. "So that's what all this was, then?" she said. "Payback for denting your masculine pride?"

He remained non-committal, although he was quite grateful to her for suggesting it, since it made a lot more sense than any of the explanations that had been running through his mind. "Look, I _am_ sorry I don't remember," she said. "I was hammered. I'm sure it really is nothing personal."

He sighed, not troubling to hide his amusement. "So what happened?" she asked, blushing slightly.

"It was pretty much as I told you this morning," he said. He dropped his chin a little and peered up at her. "Only I didn't require much by the way of instruction," he added.

"Great," she said, crossing her arms and frowning. "So I got drunk and threw myself at you."

"It wasn't – "

"And you didn't try and stop me?" she said. The slightly accusatory tone to her voice caught any thoughts he might have had about protesting. He'd never intended for her to think that she'd thrown herself at him, simply that she'd made the first move, but since she had…. It was always better to play the cards someone else handed you.

He lowered his eyes and concentrated on the threads of binding that were coming away slightly from the spine of the book he was holding. He paused for a moment, and then raised his eyes back to hers. "I'm an old man, Tonks," he said slowly, his tone equal parts apology and flirtation, "not a dead man."

She swallowed. "And, well, you were pretty insistent," he added, with as much nonchalance as he could muster. She swallowed again.

"Insistent?" she asked warily.

"Yes," he said, sniggering softly. He met her eye and smiled. "I thought at one point we weren't even going to make it out of the kitchen."

"Really?"

"Well you did have me pinned to the doorframe."

"Did I?"

He rubbed at his shoulder and offered her his best mock-wince. "Actually," he said ruefully, "I think it's going to bruise."

She blushed. Merlin, he thought, she's adorable when she does that. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's all right," he said, looking away, smiling slightly to himself. "I didn't mind."

"Oh," she said slowly.

He'd given her just enough hints to make of it what she would, and much as he'd like to stick around and watch her squirm as she processed this new information, he thought that this was definitely a lie and run situation.

"Well," he said, "anyway…."

He set the book he'd used as a prop on the arm of the sofa, and got to his feet. She looked up, smiling cautiously. "What are we going to do, then?" she said.

"Talk about it in the morning?" he said, and she nodded. He'd let her stew overnight, he thought, and then tell her the truth.

Probably.

"Goodnight," he said.

He managed to contain his laughter all the way to his bedroom, where he cast a quick silencing charm and then roared with laughter.

* * *

**A/N: Many, many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Anyone who reviews this one gets a pillow fight with Marauder Remus ;). **


	3. The Queen of Hearts

Remus was just dozing off when there was a soft knock on his door. Without waiting for a reply, whoever it was pushed the door open, and he blinked as the light from the hallway slipped into his room and then was gone as the door closed again. He heard soft footsteps shuffling towards him, and, somehow, even before he saw her face he knew it was her. He reached for his wand and lit the lamp on his bedside table, casting dancing shadows across the room. He propped himself up on his elbows, taking in her ridiculously oversized pink and black striped pyjamas, in which she looked, of course, adorable.

"Tonks?" he said. "What are you doing here? I thought you went home hours ago?"

"I did," she said. "Couldn't sleep, so I came back."

"In your pyjamas?" he said, lifting an eyebrow in her direction. She looked down.

"Oh," she said, smiling at them as if she hadn't realised what she was wearing. "Yes."

Minutes passed, and he attempted to swallow his odd sense of foreboding. He watched the shadows dance across her face, not really knowing what to think about her sudden appearance in his bedroom, late at night. Mostly his thoughts were trapped in a spiral centring on the words 'Tonks', 'bedroom' and 'in my', which he knew was ridiculous since that was where she'd spent the previous night, but with him, obviously, notably absent.

Not that she knew that. He swallowed.

"Remus?" Tonks said.

"Yes?" he said, warily raising his eyebrows at her.

"I've been thinking," she said.

"Right."

She offered him a rather frustrated frown. "Don't you want to know what?" she said.

"Go on, then," he said.

Tonks edged closer, coming round the end of the bed and up to where he was lying. "I was thinking that maybe you should refresh my memory," she said.

"You know, memory retrieval spells are very complic– "

"I wasn't talking about a spell," she said, coming even closer, lowering her voice. She met his, he imagined, panic-stricken eyes, hers twinkling seductively, and then drew back the covers and slid in next to him.

Remus swallowed, hard, as her leg brushed his.

He thought he should probably shuffle away, put some distance between them, but he thought that would be a bit rude, not to mention utterly unconvincing if they'd spent the previous night entwined around each other in a sweaty frenzy.

On the other hand, having her so close was, well, a bit disconcerting, and he thought that the last thing he needed to be, if he had any hope of handling this, was disconcerted.

While he was caught in indecision, she'd turned and edged even closer, pressing herself into his side. He forced a smile, and she met his eye briefly, and then took his face in her hand and started softly kissing his jaw.

His skin heated beneath her lips as she tasted, making her way slowly along his jaw and down his neck, tracing the same pattern on the other side with her fingertips. His eyes drifted closed as he savoured the sensation of her lips and breath on his neck, and instinctively he shifted a little closer. Her hair tickled his cheek, and he shivered a little.

He could see only two courses of action – one, tell her the truth, or two, go through with whatever it was that she had in mind. His conscience thought he should probably go with the first one; his body seemed to think the other one might not be a bad idea, especially if she kept doing that thing on his neck with her tongue.

He found his voice, somehow. "Tonks?" he said. "What are you doing?"

"I'd have thought, Remus," she whispered, huskily, right in his ear, "that that was obvious." She followed her words with actions, taking his ear lobe into her mouth and sucking it gently before making her way back down his neck. He breathed heavily, turning further into her kisses.

All of a sudden, it seemed to make sense. She'd said 'work together, _if nothing else_', talked about what they were going to do _next_, and it dawned on him that perhaps his ruse might have spectacularly unforeseen consequences. She already thought they'd slept together once, after all, and it didn't really seem as if she was content for it to be a one time thing. He pondered the idea that she might really want to be with him, and the thought was every bit as enticing as her lips on his skin.

He tried to stop thinking, to allow himself to focus entirely on the sensations she was sending through his body, and she was making it desperately easy to forget everything but her – she seemed to know exactly how hard to press her lips to his skin, and by the time she'd made her way back up to his ear he was practically whimpering. She stopped, and he could feel the gentle tease of her breath on his ear lobe. "I believe it's called – " she said, husky whisper still intact. And then, abruptly, she dropped her hand, and the husky tone. " – 'calling your bluff'," she whispered.

"What?"

He opened his eyes, wondering if he looked as startled as he felt.

She smirked at him momentarily. He noted with some apprehension that she was still insanely, worryingly, close, and then she twitched her eyebrows at him in triumph and flopped back against the pillow, cackling. "Had you going, though, didn't I?"

For a moment he pondered the double meaning of her words, and the fact that she'd had him well and truly going in both senses.

He flopped back down onto the pillow next to her, not failing to notice that their shoulders and arms were touching, and wishing he was wearing something other than a flimsy T shirt and a rather scruffy pair of pyjama bottoms, through which the heat of her body was all too evident.

He stared fixedly at the ceiling. "You remembered what really happened?" he said. His voice sounded oddly strangled and he cleared his throat.

"Enough," she said, her voice dancing.

Remus clutched the sheets a little tighter to him as he felt his stomach freeze in disappointment – not that she'd seen through his charade, but more that it had been a charade in the first place. He was definitely sorry that she wasn't doing that thing to his neck any more.

"I can't believe I fell for it twice," she said, chuckling quietly, shaking her head. "But kudos on the whole virgin fake-out thing. That was inspired."

"Thank you."

They both stared at the ceiling for a while. Remus' skin prickled at the desperateness of his situation. He knew that this was nothing less than he deserved, and yet….

More worryingly, he knew that he should find this funny. His inner Marauder should be laughing his socks off at having been so spectacularly got, but he didn't find it amusing at all. In fact, he found it something else entirely.

His heart was racing his mind for which could speed fastest through the sensations, feelings, and thoughts he desperately needed to process. He ignored his racing heart, since that never really knew what it was talking about, deciding to try and deal with some of his thoughts instead. The most pressing seemed to be that he was disappointed. That meant that he'd wanted, on some level, something to happen.

That wasn't news, though, was it?

He wondered why it felt like a surprise, and, more than that, a revelation.

"Have you ever wondered – "

Tonks interrupted his thoughts, and then stopped herself.

"Have I ever wondered what?" he said, propping himself up on his elbow to look at her.

"Nothing," she said, avoiding his gaze as she nestled on his pillow.

"No," he said, softly, "go on."

Tonks rolled her eyes and then seemed to come to a decision. "Have you ever wondered what it'd be like if we – " She paused, bit her lip a little before meeting his eye. " – did?"

For a moment he panicked that she could read minds.

"No," he said, dropping onto his back and staring at the ceiling again.

"Me neither," she said quickly.

They were quiet for what seemed like a very long time.

Remus linked his fingers together and rested them on top of the sheets on his stomach, right above the place where a butterfly colony seemed to have taken up residence. "It'd probably be awful," he said, not entirely sure who he was trying to convince.

"Probably," she said.

"Horrible," he added, with far more conviction than he felt.

"A shambles."

"Disastrous."

"Definitely," she said, and he felt the pillow they were sharing move as she nodded emphatically.

He smoothed the sheet down a little over his stomach. "I mean, we don't even really get on," he said.

"Better off out of it," she said.

"Nothing in common."

"No," she said. "Because you're so sensible – "

"And you talk too much."

"And you're boring."

"And you're far too cheerful."

"And you're _very _annoying," she said.

He stalled, unable to think of anything else bad to say about her. "We'd be ridiculous together," he said.

There was no snappy retort, just a pause, no longer than a heartbeat, and then she said:

"Would we?"

He turned his head on the pillow, finding her looking right at him, her big, twinkling dark eyes inches away. "Wouldn't we?" he said tentatively, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Yes," she said, glancing at the ceiling. "Totally. Nightmare."

"Complete and utter," he concurred.

There was another heartbeat's pause. "We do appear to be in bed together, though," she said.

"Hmm," he said, his eyes flickering to hers entirely of their own accord. "I had noticed that."

"Do you want me to get out?" she offered. He swallowed.

"Not especially."

"Not especially?" she said.

"No."

"Ok."

Silence descended. Remus clenched his fingers together and then released them, hoping that that might dispel some of the tension in his body. It didn't.

"Why not?" she said, eventually, her voice deadly quiet.

"Erm – "

He couldn't really think of an answer. Well, he could. He just wasn't sure….

"Look," he said, finding himself unexpectedly _just_ confident enough. "Do you want to – "

He faltered, suddenly unsure that what he thought was happening was happening.

"What?" she said, quietly, turning towards him a little. He shot her the briefest of glances before staring back at the ceiling, wondering, fleetingly, if he had seen what he thought he'd seen in her eyes.

"Nothing. Just – " he let out a sigh, frustrated at himself. He wondered what it was that he thought he had to lose. "Do you want to go out with me?"

"Go out with you?" she said, her tone high and surprised. All the muscles in his body tensed.

"Forget I said it," he said quickly.

"I don't want to."

"Go out with me?" he asked, not entirely surprised at the disappointed tinge to his voice.

"Forget you said it," she said softly.

"Oh."

His eyes widened entirely of their own accord as a thought occurred. He looked at her askance. "Was that a yes?" he said, and she laughed.

"I think it might have been."

He let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her. "I think I'd rather you were sure," he said, smiling. She grinned, bit her lip and then nodded. "Ok," he said, feeling that, as endearing as an ear to ear grin was on her, _he_ probably looked like an idiot. He tried to recover a little, but the grin didn't go without a fight. "Do you want to get out now?"

"Do you want me to?" she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

"No," he said, "just, you know – I thought it might be odd."

"Right," she said. "Me getting in here to get you back for being a big git isn't odd, but being in bed with someone you want to go out with is?"

He smiled to himself, and the thought that this would be a hell of a story to tell people when they asked how they got together flashed through his mind. "Well," he said, "I suppose not, when you put it like that."

Tonks propped herself up on her elbow next to him, seeming a lot closer than she had when they were both lying down. "Besides," she said. Her voice was low, quiet, and teasing. It made his heart beat faster. She reached up and her gentle fingers drifted down his face, just as they had the night before, only this time he allowed himself to enjoy it, closing his eyes as he savoured the sensation. "If we're going to go out, we're probably going to end up here anyway, sooner or later."

He wondered if she was going to try and kiss him again, knowing that this time, he'd let her. "Probably," he said, slowly opening his eyes. For a second he thought she'd had hers closed too, but on closer inspection he saw that she was just looking down, watching his lips, waiting, he supposed, for him to make the first move.

Or the next move, because it suddenly occurred to him that they'd been making these little moves towards each other for weeks, months, probably, and that whatever was about to happen was just the next in a long chain of events. "So if we're going to end up here anyway…." she said.

Everything shifted.

As their lips met, he couldn't remember if it was him or her who'd closed the miniscule distance between them, and he really didn't care. It was a brief kiss, a flirtation with the idea that they were really going to do this, but even so Remus took a ragged, gasping breath as the intensity of it took him by surprise, or, more accurately, didn't. It took him a moment to realise that the noise he'd heard was Tonks doing exactly the same thing. He met her eye briefly to see, to check, whether he was feeling what he was feeling alone.

Her eyes twinkled with nervous excitement, and he knew that he wasn't, and so he kissed her again, properly this time, taking her face in his hand and giving himself over entirely to the sensation of kissing her. He quickly came to the conclusion that it was a good job he was already lying down, because his body swiftly abandoned the pretence that it cared about anything but the feel of her soft lips on his, the gentle tease of her tongue as it tentatively explored his mouth, or her fingers tickling his neck. He was fairly certain other things existed; none of them seemed very important by comparison, though.

After a little while he pulled away, but he couldn't bare to stop touching her altogether, and he let his fingers linger on her cheek, follow the contours of her face down to rest on her neck. "I see," he said, but already his lips were yearning for more, protesting about being separated from hers, and he was leaning back in. "What you're saying is that it might be better to – " He couldn't resist kissing her again for a second longer, and she responded eagerly.

" – cut to the chase," she offered, a little breathlessly. He murmured his agreement against her lips.

"Avoid all the – " he started. She threaded her fingers into his hair, and his train of thought well and truly left the station. He ran his fingertips over the outline of her jaw, bringing her lips properly back to his for a deliciously soft, intense kiss.

" – unnecessary stuff in the middle," she added, her words little more than drowsy breath on his lips between kisses.

He couldn't resist the urge any longer. He pulled her closer and lowered her back on the bed, kissing her ardently. He tasted her jaw, just as she'd tasted his, moving quickly along to her ear. "So what you're basically saying is that you'd rather – " he whispered before continuing down her throat.

" – skip the going out part entirely – " she said, letting out a little gasp as he kissed the hollow at the base of her throat.

" – and just get on with it."

He crushed his lips against hers, and, for a while, time seemed to stand still or become entirely irrelevant or impossibly confused, he wasn't sure which. He kissed her for what seemed like an eternity, but when she moved away to offer his throat some attention, it felt as if it had been little more than a second, and consequently, over far too quickly. Still, he couldn't resist a little whimper as she pressed her lips to his skin – because really, she was very, very good at that – and then eased her face back to his, missing the warmth of her lips on his, wishing her mouth could be everywhere at once.

Their lips toyed with the idea of gentle exploratory kisses, and more passionate, fiery ones that spoke of nothing but the hitherto unacknowledged longing there had been between them, and finally settled on alternating both with kisses of a slow teasing pace that made Tonks emit little whispered sighs of approval and Remus' insides ache, either because of the kiss or her whispers of approval, he wasn't entirely sure which. He couldn't seem to resist the urge to touch her – to feel her hair beneath his fingers or to trace the outlines of her face, to find the place on her hip his hand fitted best. And she wasn't especially shy either, drawing one foot up his leg and tickling him with her toes and raking her fingers through his hair, down his back.

Their bodies began an urgent, flirtatious dance with each other, taking it in turns to press, to remit, to yield, to find a way of moving that made the other's grip tighten, their kisses pause to let a gasp or sigh escape, and every adjustment seemed to send a jolt right through him.

He hadn't imagined – not in his wildest dreams – that this would feel so…wonderful, or so right.

Remus hadn't had a lot of girlfriends, but he'd had enough to know that chances like this, feelings like this, didn't present themselves very often, and he was damned if he wasn't going to make the most of it. So, when Tonks rolled him onto his back and kissed him passionately, working her hands under his T shirt as she settled on top of him, he didn't protest, as he might have under other circumstances, that they were moving too fast.

Instead, he grasped her waist, and – he hadn't really intended to, but – finding her top had ridden up a little, couldn't resist the temptation of her delectable skin beneath his fingers. Between the way her body curved beneath his hands and the lazy patterns she was tracing on his sides, making him squirm, he was so distracted that anything even approaching rational thought was deliciously beyond his reach.

He didn't protest either when she divested him of his top altogether, barely lifting out of their kiss to do it, just marvelled at how she explored his body – not tentatively, as he might have expected, but as if it was something she already owned, and just the thought of that, let alone having her actually do it, was enough to make his insides quiver.

As exquisite, tingling warmth spread from her hands through his body, it felt so excruciatingly good that he wondered why they hadn't spent every single second of their time together doing this. The way she moved against him, kissed him, was….

He swallowed, suddenly unable to think of the word, or, in fact, any words at all. He mumbled rather incoherently and breathily, wondering if she'd even hear that over the deafening pounding of his blood in his veins.

He supposed it didn't matter that he couldn't tell her what he thought – her position was probably leaving her in little doubt about how much he liked what she was doing, and he delighted in the way her breathing hitched and she collapsed into his kisses as he gripped her hips and guided her a little more firmly against him.

By the time he started toying with the buttons on her pyjama top and felt them come undone beneath his fingers, he couldn't remember what his objections might have been in the first place, and focused instead on pressing his lips to her skin.

It was only when she moved away and trailed hot kisses across his shoulders and down his chest that he had anything resembling a coherent thought at all. And, of course, the only thing his brain could come up with was something rather disturbing. "You're not still calling my bluff, are you?" he said, raising his eyebrows at her, a little surprised at how gruff his own voice sounded, but not at all surprised at how desperately he wanted her answer to be no.

"What do you think?" she said, meeting his eye and smiling at him slyly from his bellybutton. Her kisses blazed a trail across his abdomen, each touch of her lips and flick of her tongue igniting the skin beneath. He swallowed.

"I think if you are it's no less than I deserve," he said, his voice rather lighter and more amused than he'd have thought himself capable of pulling off at such a moment. She slid back up his chest and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"No," she said, "probably not."

He grinned and rolled her over, settling on top of her. She let out a brief, breathy giggle of surprise, and he nuzzled her neck, dragged his lips across it, nipping at her skin and producing the most intriguing noises from low down in her throat, which did more to make his insides ache than her pressing closer against him. He slipped his hands inside her top, sliding them over her ribs as she took a shuddering breath against his mouth, and then up over her breasts, the lace of her acid green bra rough against his fingers. She arched into his touch, and the tightening in his stomach at her response made his breath shallow, and that that he had catch in his chest. "You're not calling mine, are you," she said, breathlessly, "to get me back for getting in here?"

He pulled back a little and couldn't resist a mischievous smile, as much at his fingers finding her nipple as at the – he hoped – not entirely serious idea that one of them might be joking. "What do you think?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," she said, smiling and biting her lip, then closing her eyes briefly as the nipple he was playing with hardened beneath his fingers.

"Hmm. Interesting," he said. He couldn't quite contain his grin, and she laughed, slipping her hands over his shoulders and around his neck, looking at him in a way that diverted the blood that had been flowing to his brain further south. "I did ask you out, though," he said.

"Could be part of your ruse," she said.

"And you did say yes."

"Could be part of _my_ ruse," she said, and he chuckled.

"Could be," he said. "Are you willing to admit that this is something other than a ploy to get me back in rather spectacular fashion?"

"Are you?" she said, her voice loaded with playful challenge. He shook his head, even though he thought his smile was probably giving him away. "How are we going to sort this one out, then?" she said, twitching her eyebrows and squirming against him as his hand moved lower and stroked circles on her stomach.

"Well," he said, lowering his lips to the crook of her neck, "if you don't want to admit that you're not joking, and I don't want to admit I'm not joking…." He paused for a moment to think, and then he murmured his answer against her skin. "Maybe I'll just stop when you say when."

He cupped her neck, loving the feel of her muscles moving underneath his lips as he kissed her. She shifted underneath him, her fingers easing his face back to hers, meeting his lips with a kiss that took his breath away and set the blood that she'd just sent south on fire. He slipped her top off her shoulders and gasped at the feel of her bare stomach against his.

Merlin. He wondered if she had any idea what she was doing to him.

He kissed her soundly before giving in to the urge to pull away a little and look at her. Her bright pink hair was sticking up in all directions, and he couldn't help the little thrill that passed through him at the thought that he'd been the one to mess it up. His eyes swept lower, taking in the acid green, lacy bra she was wearing, and the acid green trim he could see just above the waist of her pyjama bottoms. With her pale complexion and pink hair, he couldn't deny it was a rather staggering sight. He felt a rather large smirk cross his features, and lowered his mouth to her skin, which seemed to smell of sunshine, sprinkling her stomach with kisses, slipping his hands underneath her back, lifting her to his lips.

Everything about this – them, together – felt so unerringly right that suddenly it seemed absurd – completely and utterly absurd – to Remus that they hadn't been doing this for months. He felt her breathing become erratic as he trailed his lips just above her low waistband, paying particular attention to the sensitive hollow near her hipbone, and when she let out a low, throaty moan he looked up to find her rather drowsy smile. He moved up her body. "Do you always wear such garish underwear?" he asked, his voice teasing as his fingers traced the place where his lips had just been and his lips found her neck.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, leaning to kiss her cheek before moving to nuzzle her ear. "Just – if you do and this is going to become a regular occurrence, I might invest in some sunglasses."

She chuckled breathily, tickling his ear. "Well," she said, pressing her cheek to his before threading her fingers into his hair and easing him back far enough to give him a teasing, lop-sided smile. "If you don't like it, you can always take it off."

Most of him made a vague choking noise in surprise, even though his inner Marauder thought that was a very good point, and not a bad idea.

And since his inner Marauder had got him this far, Remus decided to listen to him. "I didn't say I didn't like it," he said. He twitched his eyebrows at her and kissed her unhurriedly before doing exactly what she suggested, and when her bra was nothing but a weird, acid green memory, he pulled himself back over her. She arched against him, and he traced a pattern of frantic kisses down her neck and across her breasts, feeling the breathlessness and desperation of desire coarse through him as her nipples slid under his tongue.

Her response left him in no doubt that she felt exactly the same. She quickly eased them both onto their sides, demanding that his lips meet hers and shifting against him in time with their kisses while he caressed her.

Her fingers roamed and were entirely merciless in their pursuit of the ultimate tease, and he held his breath as they fumbled with the tie on his pyjama bottoms. She undid the knot rather deftly, slipping her hand inside briefly and chuckling against his throat as he gasped and swallowed, hard, at the contact. She slipped his trousers off altogether, dropping them onto the floor, and then slid her hand up his thigh, tracing her nails across his skin in the briefest impression of a scratch. A quite undignified groan seemed to slip through his clenched teeth, regardless of his efforts to keep it internal, and he felt her smile – or more likely smirk – against his skin. He hooked his fingers inside the waistband of her pyjama bottoms – after all, two could play at that game. As he slipped them down she wriggled out of them, giggling, and before he'd even finished tossing them aside she was pressing her body back into his and capturing his lips in a soft, teasing kiss that did nothing to hide the intensity behind it.

This time the ache in his insides went all the way down to his soul, and he knew that he was utterly lost, lost in her, and would be for the foreseeable. He tore his lips away from hers, fantastically, amazingly, aware that soon, he wouldn't be able to pull away, to leave this, to leave the things his body was desperate to confess to hers unsaid. "You haven't said when yet," he said, voice thick as he met her eyes and searched them for some glimmer of indication that she wanted this as much as he did. She smiled and it lit up bits of him that had been lost to darkness long ago, and then kissed his chin, his jaw, urging his lips back down to hers.

"I don't want you to stop," she replied.

So he didn't.

* * *

Remus woke up to find a pink, fluffy mess of hair on the pillow beside him, and two sets of pyjamas and one set of rather striking acid green underwear strewn across the floor haphazardly. He sniggered quietly to himself, not wanting to wake her. She looked especially adorable in her sleep.

He wasn't entirely sure what this woman – this spectacularly brilliant, feisty, gloriously beautiful woman – was doing in his bed, but he couldn't help smiling about the fact that she was.

He knew that they'd rushed into things, but he supposed that she had been right – they probably were going to end up here sooner or later, and if he was honest with himself, it always would have been sooner rather than later.

He wondered when it was that under her skin had become the only place that felt like home.

Tonks shifted next to him, and he propped himself up on one elbow and met her eyes as they opened. A slow, drowsy smile spread across her face. "Wotcher," she said.

"So you don't have any other expressions of greeting, then," he said. "I always wondered…."

"Nope," she said. "Just wotcher – one word fits all occasions."

She shifted again, drawing one arm under her head on the pillow and curling a little closer to him. She smiled up at him and her dark eyes sparkled. "So," he said.

"So?"

"Hmm. Either you're the world's best actress and you're about to shout 'gotcha' in my face and run out with the tattered remains of my dignity," he said, raising an eyebrow at her, "or we need to have a conversation."

"A conversation?" she said. "About what?"

"About the fact that the last _conversation_ we had involved nothing more than heavy breathing, a few muttered expletives and moaning each other's names."

She laughed, and he looked down, the briefest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. She lifted herself up onto her elbow next to him. "You're sexy when you smirk," she said, her voice a low, amused tease.

"So we're ruling out the actress option, are we?"

"You look good like this," she said, toying with the ends of his hair, pushing them behind his ear. His breathing felt oddly constricted, and his eyes roved her face, taking in every detail, cherishing the moment.

"Like what?" he said, his voice quiet and smiling.

"Rumpled," she said, "like you've been up to no good."

"I have been up to no good," he said, meeting her eye and raising his eyebrows at her. "Don't you remember?"

"Hmm," she murmured. She took his face in her hand and started slowly kissing his jaw. He shifted closer, turned his face into her kisses, holding his breath. "Some of the details are a little bit fuzzy," she whispered. "Maybe you should try and jog my memory."

"I thought we were going to have a conversation?"

"Oh we are," she said in a devilishly flirty tone that seemed to ignite his body. "It's just going to be the heavy-breathing, muttered expletive kind."

He dipped his head a little, trying desperately not to give in to the grin that was just below the surface. "Is that right."

"Hmm," she murmured.

"You seem to have it all figured out," he said. "It was barely worth me waking up at all."

"I wouldn't say that," she said, pressing him back against the bed, kissing his neck.

"Wouldn't you?" he asked as she shifted on top of him, drawing her legs up either side of his. His hands settled on her hips, and he took a moment to stop and marvel at how at home they felt there.

"No," she said, kissing his chest. "I think I'm going to make being awake _very_ worth your while."

"Oh," he said with a soft chuckle.

She made her way slowly up to his mouth, and by the time she captured his lips it was all he could do to moan into her mouth before kissing her. "We're much better at this kind of conversation, don't you think?" she said between delicious kisses.

"Oh yes," he said.

He ran his hands up her spine, pulling her closer as he kissed her deeply, earnestly. She pulled away slightly, and he took the opportunity to start assaulting her throat. "Just one thing," she said.

"What?" he murmured into the crook of her neck.

"Don't call me Nymphadora, this time, Remus."

She squirmed as he laughed and his breath tickled her neck. "You're so annoying," he muttered, right against her skin, between kisses.

* * *

**A/N: Well, to paraphrase The Doors, this is the end, my friends, the end…. **

**….'cept it's not. Not really, because I'm planning to write a sequel to this/Under The Table – it's going to be called Over The Moon, so look out for it or click the handy author alert button thingy if you want to know what happens next. **

**Anyway, sincerest thanks to everyone who has taken the time to drop me a review, and for your traditional review bribe this time, I thought I'd offer you a chance to try and make Remus weak at the knees…. ;) **


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